


without the distance in between (and all the obstacles we've known)

by theweightofmywords



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mornings, Nightmares, POV Draco Malfoy, POV Third Person Limited, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slice of Life, living as muggles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-08-11 06:35:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7880293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theweightofmywords/pseuds/theweightofmywords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Do you get them too, Potter?” he whispered. He wasn’t sure if this- sitting so close that they could feel each other’s hearts beating- was any help to him. He felt alone in this peace.</p>
            </blockquote>





	without the distance in between (and all the obstacles we've known)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mxlfoydraco](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mxlfoydraco/gifts).



> This is set in the same universe as my other story,"In Fire and Blood." It's not necessary to read that one first, however. 
> 
> I wrote this for Serra aka [Mxlfoydraco](http://mxlfoydraco.tumblr.com)'s birthday! I hope you enjoy this one <3
> 
> Feel free to cry over drarry with me at [tumblr. ](http://harryjvmes.tumblr.com)
> 
> [Disclaimer] JK Rowling owns these characters. Title taken from Lucius's song "How Loud Your Heart Gets." (total coincidence i took the title from a band named LUCIUS, i swear.)

Draco’s eyes flew open as gasped for air, his chest tight. 

“Hey.”

He glanced over to see Harry, sitting in front of him, their hands clasped together. The July sun warmed the room, and Draco’s shirt clung to his back. 

“Did I wake you?” Draco asked, averting his eyes. 

Harry shook his head and began to brush the hair off Draco’s forehead. Draco closed his eyes and tried to control his breathing. 

“I was making breakfast. Burnt the toast to a crisp.”

“Right. Of course,” Draco mumbled, recognising the smell of smoke from his dreams as the still-lingering scent from the kitchen. 

“Nightmare?” Harry asked, his gaze distant even as he continued to brush the hair off Draco’s forehead. Draco had let it slip about two weeks after they started seeing each other that it helped him feel calm. It reminded him of his mother, or something sentimental like that. But now, Harry did it as if it was second nature. 

Draco reached up and stilled Harry’s hands beneath his. As he looked at Harry, his still-frantically beating heart slowed. 

With an exhale, he pulled Harry closer until their lips met. 

Breathing in and out, Draco ran his hands along Harry’s back, as his hands grasped onto the thin t-shirt Harry had slept in. Harry moved to his lap, his legs wrapped around Draco’s waist.

Harry held Draco’s face and kissed along his cheekbones gently. He nudged his nose against his cheek, and they sat there wrapped around each other, the rise and fall of their chests slowly synchronising. Draco still couldn’t understand the hows or whys of their new relationship, but he knew that although they both felt lost, they felt less so when they were together. 

When Harry had returned his wand after the trials in late May, Draco had asked him to grab a drink. He had little left to lose. Nothing made sense anymore, but something about Potter- having him near, hearing his voice- ubiquitous for the past seven years-, made him feel a little less unsteady. 

Draco opened his eyes.They were so close that the rest of Harry’s face was a blur. He saw a dusting of light freckles across his cheeks, below the dark bags underneath his eyes. He wondered what comforted Harry. He pictured himself brushing his wild hair away from his eyes, or rubbing his back in slow circles, gentle movements lulling Harry back to sleep. 

They kissed for the first time under explosions of sound, the taste of sweat dripping onto their lips. Draco remembered the mild summer night, the crashing double bass of the metal band, the screaming vocals setting Draco on edge, and how Harry had smiled as he spun around the moshpit, relishing the chaos. 

“It sounds like…” Harry had explained, “... how it feels. Inside.” 

Draco suddenly felt futile in his attempts to chase Harry’s demons away with such a simple act. Holding him tighter, he felt the bumps of Harry’s spine under his fingers.

“Do you get them too, Potter?” he whispered. He wasn’t sure if this- sitting so close that they could feel each other’s hearts beating- was any help to him. He felt alone in this peace.

Harry pulled away, placing his hands on Draco’s shoulders. He glanced towards the kitchen and rubbed his eyes. He looked so tired, and Draco’s chest constricted.  

“Who doesn’t,” Harry replied, as he shrugged. “C’mon. I made you breakfast.”

Draco wanted to hold him in place, wanted to tell him that it was always his name he screamed when the fires threatened to swallow him whole. He wanted to know what stole him away when his eyes became unfocused and he seemed just out of reach. He wanted to find out what it was and throw himself in front of it. He just wanted Harry to sleep without destroying himself first.

Harry picked at a scab on his elbow, a badge of honour from one of the metal shows he seemed to enjoy so much. After the show, Harry had collapsed into bed and slept the whole night through. 

A different kind of peace. 

Draco had told Harry to use some Dittany on the wound. "It’ll heal faster,” he had said. 

“What’s the rush?” he had replied, pulling his arm away.

Harry stood now by the door to the bedroom, which had somehow become  _ theirs _ over the past month. His eyes were fixed towards the floor. In the short time they had been together, Draco had felt the bed shake from Harry’s silent sobs in the middle of the night. He had woken up to see Harry standing by the window, plumes of smoke emanating from a cigarette in his shaky hands.

Draco smelled the burnt toast mixed with bacon and eggs. “You made breakfast for me?”

Harry kept picking at the scab. “You mentioned you were craving bacon, so… And I couldn’t sleep anyway.” 

Draco imagined Harry making breakfast in the tiny kitchen, taking extra care to be quiet while he slept. He hadn’t thought Harry had noticed his passing comment about bacon. He had blurted out that he wanted bacon a few nights ago while they walked through the city. It had been a clumsy attempt to veer the subject away from the war, when Harry became quiet, his shoulders tense. He didn’t know what he could do to bring Harry peace, but if that had helped, then-

Draco took another deep breath and smiled. 

“Well, I hope it’s good,” he said, stretching indulgently as he climbed out of bed. “Since I missed out on a full eight-hours because of your burnt toast.”

Harry’s jaw relaxed, and a small smile reached his face. 

“Only the best for you, Malfoy,” he said as he rolled his eyes.

Draco wrapped his arms around his waist as they walked towards the kitchen. He kissed the top of Harry’s head and breathed in the scent of his hair. 

“Potter?” Draco asked, quietly. 

“Hm?” 

“You can have some of mine, if you want.”


End file.
